A/N: It's kinda AU, Sam said yes to Luci and has broken the world, Michael used Adam as his vessel and smote the shit out of Lucifer...but the story isn't about them so none of that really matters. All you need to know is it's all over, Dean's alone and he's given up.
Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine, I'm just playing with the boys, I've promised to give them back when I'm done with them. Slaughterhouse 5 isn't mine either, that's Kurt Vonnegut's (and it's bloody good if you're into war stories that go a bit sci-fi) ...I make nothing from this except my own enjoyment and maybe some other peoples in the crossfire.
This probably couldn't suck more really. Everything Dean had ever treasured or held dear, even loved was gone. There was nothing left, nada. The world had officially gone to shit; he couldn't do a thing to stop it, had no idea where to even begin trying to fix it so he did what every other human being on the planet who wasn't already dead had done, he'd given up.
Lying on what he assumed used to resemble a bed, he curled himself up in the foetal position, pulling his legs to his chest with one arm and pillowing his head with the other. The room he was in used to be part of a motel, he thought, judging by what little decor was left clinging to the bricks that vaguely kept the shape of walls. The room, if you could still warrant calling it that, contained the lump of metal Dean was lying on, half a sink, a mirror that was more or less still in one piece (well 2 big pieces but still holding on valiantly to the wall), a smashed television set and a vast amount of the roof.
Incidentally, the TV wasn't smashed when Dean had found the place. The end of the world sucked even more without Dr. Sexy. Of course, he mused, the actor who played Dr Sexy probably wasn't even alive anymore or any of the actors for that matter... or the production team... so he guessed even if the TV worked Dr Sexy would most likely be cancelled.
The faint rumble of thunder could be heard much clearer than it would have been had there not been a sizable hole in the entire building. Dean rolled his head to the side just in time for the first drop of rain to fall square in his eye.
"For fuck sake" he grumbled sliding off the bed and grabbing his duffle to save what little he had from the wet.
There was a corner of the room, the most structurally sound, that still had a canopy of roof attached to it, it happened to be the wall which still held the mirror up. Dean crossed the room in a few strides, avoiding the oncoming downpour only just.
Dumping the duffel next to him he leant against the wall and let gravity pull him to the ground until his knees were bunched to his chest.
The rain fell around him, leaving the patch he inhabited relatively dry.
Waiting for the rain to settle so that he could go back to wallowing in his self pity on the semi-comfortable pile of springs Dean unzipped the duffel and rooted through it, just for something to do. His hands felt the material inside, weaved around a pair of jeans dug under the couple of flannel shirts, gripped an old tape. Dean smiled to himself, for a split second he was back in the Impala with Stairway playing loud enough to make Sam sulk for the rest of the day. Sam. The memory went sour. The smiling stopped. He let go of the tape.
A gun with no ammunition, a knife that was blunted so much butter would put up a fight and win, his hand explored further into the bag. Right at the very bottom was a book, he pulled it out and ran his fingers over the weather beaten, dog-eared paperback.
Slaughterhouse 5 must have been in the bag for years, the cover had all but disintegrated, what was left of it had blood stains smeared on it and mud and whatever other supernatural crap ended up settling at the bottom of the well used duffel.
Dean flicked through the brittle pages a dozen times, remembering all the times he'd read it. The first time when he was only young, his dad had left him alone with Sam for a whole week and he was going insane, found the book at the bottom of a bag full of other books on lore and shit. He read it, then read it again. The war stuff was good, the time travel was pretty cool too but kinda hard to understand first time round. But it was the aliens that Dean had liked so much, the Tralfamadorians who dismissed "Why?" in favour of "Just Because" ...Kinda made sense back then.
He thought then, all he'd done throughout this whole crappy ordeal was question everything, that, the most human of characteristics was to be obsessed with the question "Why me?"
He thought about what Vonnegut wrote and what those aliens said "Why anything? Because this moment simply is... there is no why"
And that's when Dean threw the book into the rain, it hit the broken TV and split into individual pages drowning and dissolving in the water sodden carpet.
There is no why. It happened just because it fucking did? What sort of an explanation was that?
The rain came to a stop, leaving the sky a dirty gray colour and the room uncomfortably cold and damp. The only saving grace was that everything smelt of ozone rather than burning as it had done for so long now.
Instead of venturing back to the sorry excuse for a bed, Dean slept where he was huddled against a wall, staring at the dusty mirror, looking into his own defeated expression.
When he woke it was dark, not like it was ever particularly light anymore but it was dark enough to get the point across – it was night.
Time stopped mattering to Dean, he ate when he found something worth eating, drank when he found water or whiskey or whatever and slept when his body was too exhausted to do anything else, there wasn't really much else.
He stood slowly, stretching his legs out from the awkward position he'd been in for god knows how long.
He wiped a hand over the mirrors surface sending a cloud of dust everywhere.
"You look like shit, man" he said to himself "Couple of burgers, that's what you need" he sighed out a humourless laugh, leaning his forehead on the reflective glass.
"Fucking hell I'm actually talking to myself"
He closed his eyes. His sigh steamed up the mirror.
There was warmth beside him. Suddenly and without warning, a hand on his shoulder. Old instincts were quick to kick in and the hand on his shoulder was quickly pinned to the ground, Dean's weight holding the rest of the attacker firm to the sodden floor.
His eyes went wide, taking in exactly who was currently underneath him, making no move whatsoever to get him off.
"Hello Dean"
"Jesus! Cas –"
He jumped up, lending the angel a hand to get back on his feet.
"I didn't mean to alarm you"
"What the actual fuck Cas! I haven't so much as seen a fucking rat in months and you think just..." he made a sort of jazz hands gesture, "turning up like that wouldn't alarm me?"
Castiel was obviously about to answer but Dean had more questions.
"Where the hell have you been? I called you. I called you 'til I was blue in the damn face"
"I have other responsibilities" the angel replied in such calm, matter of fact tone it made Dean want to punch him.
"Other responsibilities?" He hadn't had reason to shout for a pretty long time, he'd given up yelling at the sky months ago, it felt kinda good to have someone to be angry at again.
Before he had any time to even think of something else to yell in Castiel's direction, he was against the mirrored wall, a hand around his throat.
At this point you'd expect him to be even more pissed off, to fight back, but all Dean could think of was how nice it was to have some contact. The angel's hand tightened and Dean could feel the heat burning through his skin and it felt nice.
"Yes Dean, contrary to your belief you are not the centre of this universe, there were more important things I had to attend to. There was nothing I could do down here. This –" he let go of the hunter's neck to gesticulate, he threw his arms out, signifying everything "this was inevitable"
Dean clenched his jaw, stared straight into the hurricane of Castiel's eyes, "inevitable?" the rage was silent now, seething, he whispered, "fucking inevitable?"
"Yes."
Cas' head hit the mirror, cracking it and causing bits of it to finally fall to the rest of the debris on the floor. Dean now had hold of the angel's neck, their breaths mingling.
"Don't! Don't say that. You hear me? I won't just roll over and take that" He smashed the smaller man's head against the mirror again before changing his grip so that both his hands knotted in the back of Castiel's perpetually mussed hair.
"You cannot tell me that this is just because it fucking is!"
"I'm sorry"
The fight just up and left him.
That moment Cas looked so dishevelled, so sincere, for lack of a better word, so human. Dean let go of him, ignoring the blood matting Castiel's dark hair and covering his own fingers.
"Me too"
It was quiet between them for sometime as Castiel stared through Dean and Dean stared at a particularly interesting spot on his shoe.
"So is this it?"
"Is what it, Dean?"
"This" he threw his hands in the air before slumping back against the wall, forehead resting on his knees.
"I see your ability to articulate has not improved" Cas deadpanned, earning a flash of genuine smile from the broken Winchester.
The angel lowered himself onto his knees, in front of Dean. His trench coat pooled around him on the still wet carpet.
"This isn't it Dean, not at all"
He placed his hands on Dean's knees, framing his face with his thumbs. Dean did not look up.
"Then what's next huh? What happens at the end of the end of the world?"
"Humans have an amazing ability to...survive. This world will be rebuilt, whether the Angels like it or not"
Dean looked Castiel in the eye to see an odd sort of awe in his expression.
"You really think the few of us left even want to try to fix this? This isn't the freakin' War of the Worlds... we ain't going to build some damn underground city and sing about it"
Castiel's face scrunched into the most confused look possible, "I don't-"
"I know you don't understand that fucking reference!" Dean snapped, burying his head further between his knees.
Cas rolled his eyes, a gesture that would have made Dean smirk if he'd seen. Huffing a determined breath, Castiel lifted Dean's chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcibly bringing Dean's eyes in line with his own.
For a long while he contemplated what he could say to the man who was meant to save the world and failed, eventually, he stared into the Winchester's eyes and decided on saying nothing.
Slowly he closed the gap between them, his eyes staying transfixed on Dean's, only at the moment their lips touched did he dare to break eye contact.
Dean wasn't entirely sure he had a firm grasp on reality, because as of that exact moment he could swear that he was kissing Castiel, actually kissing Castiel, and he was pretty sure he was enjoying it. Of course he could easily put it down to the fact that human...or angel... or any kind of contact wasn't just scarce, but nigh on impossible to find and he just needed, desperately to touch someone else...or it could be that it was Cas, his Cas. The one who gripped him tight and all that shit.
The realisation hit him suddenly, that he had missed Castiel the most since everything went completely to hell. Sure he missed Sam but on some level Dean was going to be eternally pissed with his little brother for betraying him, and Bobby, yeah he'd give anything to pick up a phone and hear his voice... but Cas, he couldn't explain it, couldn't even justify it in his own head but he knew, just knew that if anyone other than his angel had walked into that dilapidated motel room he wouldn't feel an iota of the relief, comfort and damn near joy that he did with Cas' hands looped around his neck.
Castiel was unsure of himself to begin with, pressing his lips intently against Dean's hoping he'd take the hint and pick up the slack. Dean felt somewhat tense for all of ten, maybe twenty seconds before something in him decided to just go with it. He opened up to Dean's prying tongue as he slipped his hands into Dean's hair, inviting him to get closer, deeper.
Dean finally broke the kiss, his lips lingering next to Castiel's. "Dude" he said catching his breath a little, "I gotta move, my legs are killing me sat like this"
Dean wobbled a little as he stood, bracing his hand on the wall behind him as he did so, he looked down at Castiel, still kneeling as if ready to pray.
Cas' eyes roamed Dean's body until they reached his face, his lips, now so full of the colour they lacked for so long.
He eventually got to his feet too; he looked forlorn all of sudden, bowing his head.
"What?" Dean said curiously.
"I'm so sorry I-"
Dean cupped a hand firmly over the angel's mouth, Cas' eyes widened in surprise.
"Don't"
He let his hand slide down Castiel's chin, down his neck and to the tie resting loosely on the grubby white shirt.
"But Dean I-"
"Castiel, if you apologise again I will punch you in the face"
It took Dean what felt like forever to decide what to do with the hand grasping the royal blue tie. He slipped a finger into the knot at the base of his friend's neck and gently tugged until it came loose, dropping the piece of cloth to the floor.
He fixed his eyes on Cas' as he unbuttoned the shirt covering the pale skin he had the sudden need to touch.
In a normal situation, he mused, he would have ripped the shirt clean off the angel's back with a total disregard for the buttons flying everywhere but something inside him now strived to keep the unbroken things intact. The world was full of fucked up things that he couldn't fix but at least he could prevent some things from being ruined, even if it's just a shirt.
Slowly, he ghosted his fingers over the newly revealed flesh, up until he gripped the smaller man's shoulders, lifting his hands; he carefully shucked the shirt, suit jacket and trench coat off and watched them fall to the floor.
Castiel gripped the t-shirt clinging to Dean's chest, clearly without the same need to keep things unbroken he tore the shirt from the neck, cleanly down the middle like tearing paper.
"Hey, that was the only one I had left"
"You look better without it" the angel said quietly with a crooked smile. Dean cocked an eyebrow.
"I'll get cold"
"I will keep you warm"
Dean laughed properly for the first time in months; he dragged the angel so their hips were flush against one another and rested his forehead on Cas'
"The hell d'you learn to talk like that?"
Cas shifted to kiss Dean's chin.
Dean nuzzled into the crook of Cas' neck, nipping and kissing wherever he saw fit, rubbing his temple against the perpetual 5 o'clock shadow.
Castiel stayed perfectly still while Dean attacked his neck with everything he had. Looking up, he caught a familiar look in Cas' eyes, the same mix of terror and embarrassment that he'd seen in the brothel, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Dean smiled; "So..." he ran his hands down the angel's bare arms reassuringly.
"You still haven't? I mean... you're still?"
"Dean, I've been at war, in case you didn't know. There isn't much call for... that on the battlefield."
Dean noted just how adorable an exacerbated Castiel could be, and how he'd never really noticed it before. He ran his fingers through the shock of dark hair, making him look even more flustered.
"No cute angel warriors in the trenches then, huh?"
"No Dean."
He couldn't help himself, he laughed again. This laughter thing was refreshing after so much silence.
Tearing himself away from Castiel's warmth, he moved to pick up the trench coat and shook it out; laying it flat on a part of the carpet that wasn't too wet or too covered in brick debris and bits of roof.
He plonked himself down ungracefully on the coat, which he'd decided would have to do as a makeshift blanket.
"Quit just standing there will you?" He patted the coat, inviting Cas down with him. "Okay. It's not ideal, I'll give you that. But I'm pretty sure your delicate little ass will cope"
He smirked childishly, realising the implications of what he just said.
As Castiel began to kneel between Dean's open legs, Dean grasped his hands and pulled him down quicker. Framing the smaller man with his bent knees he leant forward to plant a kiss on the angel's nose.
Reaching for the buckle on Cas' belt he felt a pang of doubt, or conscience or something... something that made him look at the being kneeling in front of him with an expectant expression and made him need to justify his actions, to himself more than anything.
"Cas, listen" his hand came to rest on the angel's waistband, he left it there.
"I...Jesus... I just, I don't want you to think I'm doing this 'cause I'm desperate" he kept his eyes fixed on the metal of Cas' belt buckle, forcing himself not to look up at his face.
"What I mean is, I guess, I really need some contact right now, and dude... I'm not... I don't want to do anything with you if you don't want it too..."
"I-" Cas tried to cut in.
"Listen!"
He rubbed his eyes, sighed and sat back a bit, distancing himself. He continued to speak, all too fast, eloquence wasn't important, he was just desperate to say it;
"What I'm trying to say is, I don't want to do this just because you're the only one here, and I need to be close to anyone right now..I want to do it BECAUSE it's you. Understand? I don't know, I just, you've saved my life more times than I deserved, you rebelled against Heaven for me, I mean, who the hell does that? Truth is no one has ever meant as much to me as you do outside of family and I suppose I never really noticed with the whole apocalypse deal going on just how I felt... and then here you are, ya know? And I... if anyone else had walked in here earlier I wouldn't have been half as fucking glad to see them as I am you"
He finally looked directly at Cas, not sure what to expect from him. He'd shocked himself with how much he truly meant all that.
"You man... it's always been you."
Castiel sat back on his ankles; hands clasped in his lap and cocked his head to the right slightly. "You're forgetting something Dean."
"What?"
"I believe I kissed you first"
"But..."
"Please," Castiel said with a sigh, leaning forward into Dean's space, "shut up, or..."he smiled, "I will punch you in the face"
The becoming horizontal and completely undressed part seemed to skip Dean's consciousness completely as the next thing he knew he was on his back with a just-as-naked-as-he-was angel filling the contours of his body like a puzzle piece on top of him.
"Hey," he whispered, brushing his knuckles against the rough cheek just centimetres from his own. "Those baby blues look way better when they're lookin' up at me"
He shifted his bodyweight easily enough underneath the lighter man, flipping them without any resistance from Cas.
Framing Castiel's face with his elbows he leant down kissed him, languidly, savouring the feel of another body, but not just anyone's, his very own angel. He had thought about this before, God knows he'd had dreams about Cas that confused the fuck out of him in the past, the kind that would leave him sticky in the mornings with Sam taunting him about being a fourteen year old with no control. For so long he'd put it down to the stress of literally having the end of the world on his shoulders, people dream weird shit under insane amounts of stress right?
But at that moment, with Castiel gingerly grinding his hips against Dean's, trying to find some friction, grasping his ribs so lightly with his perfect fingers and his damn beautiful eyes just pleading, he realised that he finally got the message. This was what he wanted; it just took the end of the world for him to see it.
Breaking the kiss to lick a stripe across his collar bone, the angel threw his head back, baring his neck and let out the most human sound Dean had ever heard come from Cas' lips. He moaned louder still when Dean reached a hand between their bodies, bracing himself with the other.
As Dean's grip tightened around them both together, Castiel's eyes grew a darker, hungrier shade of blue, his head snapped back up toward Dean's and he pulled the Winchester's face to his with a force that almost made Dean loose balance.
He kissed Dean with a ferocity that took him by surprise, finding himself smiling into the onslaught of teeth and lips and tongue.
"Please" Cas rasped into Dean's mouth, one hand joining Dean's between them, he stopped Dean's hand from the steady rhythm he'd built up. "Dean," his voice barely audible, "I need it to be you. Please"
"I don't want to hurt you, Cas"
Castiel's features morphed into confusion, as though he hadn't factored pain into the equation at all.
"I mean, not to kill the mood," he sat up to straddle him, then leant down to kiss the freckle by his right nipple, "but this whole post-apocalyptic deal is shockingly lube-less"
He paid more attention to the freckle that he'd very recently decided he was rather attached to, licking and teasing his nipple, eliciting more very human sounds from the angel who was apparently quite sensitive there; somewhere in the back of Dean's mind he made a mental note.
"You... you won't hurt me" Cas huffed through laboured breaths, "I Just-"
"Man, you have no idea-"
"I'm an angel dumbass! Your rules don't apply!"
Impatience got the better of him, the full force of his strength that he'd been holding back desperately sprang free and before Dean could blink he was flat on his back again, Cas mimicked the straddle position Dean inhabited less than five seconds previous and held the hunters hands above his head, pinning him.
"Funny," he said with a triumphant lopsided grin "your eyes look better looking up at me".
"Shit. Fuck...JESUS!"
"Only managing one word sentences Dean? Always so eloquent" the angel chided, sinking down onto Dean's hard length like he belonged there.
"Fuck yo- ahh"
Dean watched as the man above him writhed, there was a certain irony in how angelic Cas looked at that moment, given the situation; Dean thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful.
The control was all Castiel's, Dean figured dudes first time and all, he should call the shots... and he was calling them really fucking loudly.
The pace quickened as Cas bent to kiss Dean hungrily and without finesse, Dean grabbed fistfuls of the angels tangled hair and kept him close, thrusting up frantically.
"You sure you've never done this before?" Dean panted, wrapping his hand around the base of Cas' cock.
"Hmmmph ahh nnh"
"Now who's not so damn eloquent" he smirked pulling the angel in for another kiss with his unoccupied hand.
The way the angel was moving, Dean knew he didn't have a snowballs chance to drag this out any longer, he gripped Cas' hip tight with his left hand, holding him in place as his own movements became more erratic, his other hand working Cas to the edge of blissful oblivion.
A couple more shallow, clumsy thrusts and he was done, digging his blunted finger nails into the flesh above Castiel's hipbone, he shuddered violently, riding out the first orgasm he'd had in a really freakin' long time.
In the midst of delirium, Dean could have sworn for a split second a white light erupted from Castiel's eyes.
"OH GOD!"
"Dude... Kinda weird screaming your dad's name... Just sayin'..."
Spent, Cas collapsed on top of Dean, the sticky white mess on Dean's chest gluing them together, briefly Dean thought to himself 'what I'd give for running water right now' and then he decided he didn't care.
"I thought it was obvious" Cas said, sort of to himself, his back pressed against Dean's side.
"What was?" Dean yawned, draping his arm across the angel's bare chest.
"That I harboured feelings for you that angel's aren't necessarily meant to possess"
He snorted a tired laugh in amusement, "Dude, you're the biggest enigma I've ever fuckin' met, you make nothing obvious, ever"
"I'm sorry" the angel mumbled softly.
"Me too"
"What do you have to apologise for?" Cas turned to face Dean, placing a hand over his heart that had only just managed to stop beating at a million miles per second.
"I'm sorry for being such an oblivious dumbass...we could have been doin' this a whole lot longer if I'd known"
He smiled wryly, planting a kiss on his angel's temple.
Cas nuzzled his chin into the contour of Dean's collarbone and closed his eyes, not sleeping, just resting.
Dean looked over the man curled up to him and sighed contentedly.
A sudden gust of wind blew right through the broken building, carrying with it a small piece of water damaged paper. Dean dragged his hand lazily over the carpet to pick it up, the writing on it was smudged but still legible, and he read;
"Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt"
He smiled to himself, thought about showing Cas...
But then he thought, he wouldn't understand that reference.
FIN.